The Life She Wants. Jo McNally
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of the places and people that weren’t healthy for her anymore. So she’d sold it and invested in Luis’s new fashion line.
She stood and stretched, looking across her cousin’s loft and out to Gallant Lake, silver-blue in the soft morning light. Wisps of fog clung to the tops of the mountains. She’d moved into Nora’s vacant apartment a month ago. It was supposed to be temporary, of course, until she could find a place in the city, closer to Luis’s studio in the fashion district. Gallant Lake was as close to her former stomping grounds as she could handle for now.
Someone rapped on the door downstairs, and it opened, meaning it could only be one person—her landlord. Nora’s voice carried easily through the loft apartment. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! I bring coffee!”
Her one remaining vice was caffeine, but she’d forgiven herself for that one long ago. That was a good thing, since she now lived directly above Nora’s coffee shop, the Gallant Brew. She grabbed a pair of yoga pants, calling over the railing to the room below, “I love you for the coffee. And hate you for the hour.”
“Hey, yoga girl, it was your idea to teach me this stuff. What’s got you in a twist this morning?”
Her cousins were all as close as sisters, but no way was she sharing that she’d dreamed of Shane Brannigan last night. She’d never hear the end of it, and they’d all be playing matchmaker for the only unattached cousin left. Besides, Big Ginger was all wrong for her. She hadn’t missed the glass of whiskey in his hand, or his need to be in charge. Two major triggers for her, and she wasn’t going down that road. Not again.
She’d barely taken a sip of the double espresso Nora had delivered when there was a light knock on her door. Nora shrugged when their eyes met. “Asher’s on his way to Albany to meet with a client, so it’s not him. Maybe Becky decided to join us, but I thought she was going to church with the baby and meeting us at the resort later.”
It wasn’t Nora’s daughter who was waiting when Melanie opened the door. Instead, she found Tori Sutter smiling brightly. And standing right next to her was Shane Brannigan, who was not smiling. Mel did a quick mental inventory of her appearance—had she even brushed her hair before coming downstairs? Oh, Lord, she was barefoot, wearing leggings and had on a cropped top that barely covered her sports bra. And no makeup. This was not her usual meet-a-handsome-if-annoying-man look. She felt her face warming, but Tori didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m not too late, am I? You said around seven for yoga, right?” Tori brushed by Mel, who was still staring at Shane. And he was staring right back. The corner of his mouth rose in a crooked smile.
“You seem surprised to see us, Miss Lowery. You were so adamant last night that Tori honor your invitation. Are you having regrets now that the liquor has burned off?”
She hissed in a sharp breath. He thought she’d been drunk last night? Well, if he did, it was her own fault. That’s why she drank tonic water with lime at parties. No one ever questioned whether it contained alcohol or not, avoiding awkward explanations, pitying looks or the inevitable person who insisted that “just one drink won’t hurt.” Apparently her ruse worked, because Shane assumed she’d been pounding back vodka all night. She decided not to set him straight, since it was none of his business.
“I’m not at all surprised to see Tori. But I am surprised to see you, since I don’t recall extending you an invitation. Are you interested in yoga, Mr. Brannigan?”
He shook his head, looking bemused. “Yesterday you ripped into me for not caring enough about my client’s well-being, and now you’re surprised I want to see where she’s going for yoga lessons?” He stepped inside and looked around. She had to concede he made a good point. But before she could say so, he opened his mouth and spoiled it. “I mean, all I know about you is you pose for pictures and like to eavesdrop on conversations.”
“I don’t ‘pose for pictures’ anymore. And any time I hear a young girl being pushed around by someone, I’m going to do something about it.” His blue eyes went icy, but before he could reply, Tori cut him off.
“He’s just grumpy because Mrs. Winthrop thinks he hired you to help me, and he can’t figure out how to deal.”
Shane glared at Tori, then closed his eyes tightly and sighed.
“You have a big mouth, kid. Do your thing with Melanie and come downstairs when you’re done. You’ve got thirty minutes.” He turned to leave, but Mel stopped him with a hand on his arm. His very solid, well-muscled arm that tensed when her fingers touched it. She felt a surprising little zing of attraction zip down her spine but did her best to ignore it. She was in the midst of a very long dry spell, so her physical reactions simply couldn’t be trusted.
“Explain that comment about Mrs. Winthrop.”
Tori jumped in again. “She thought Shane staged my makeover last night.”
“Really? How wonderfully sexist of her to give him the credit.”
His eyes lit up with amusement as Tori giggled behind her.
“I know, right? She thinks you’ve been hired to improve my image.”
Mel looked at her, ignoring Nora’s delighted expression behind her. Her cousin was going to be giving her the third degree later, no doubt.
“And why exactly does your image need improving?”
Tori’s bravado faltered, then recovered everywhere but her eyes. “Haven’t you heard? I’m golf’s ‘wild child,’ whatever that means. Shane’s worried about my sponsors.”
He stared at Melanie’s hand on his forearm as he spoke. “Shane’s worried about your career. That’s my job.” Mel pulled her hand back, and he frowned. “Go do your yoga thing. I need coffee. Scratch that—I need a triple shot of espresso.”
After he left, Mel taught Nora and Tori a few basic stress-reducing poses, learning through trial and error which ones Tori could do without causing pain in her bruised ribs. The girl talked about dealing with her new life after winning her first women’s tournament last year at fifteen, then defeating several male pros at an invitational “skins” game in Las Vegas. One of those men happened to be one of the top five PGA players worldwide, and the entire sports world had turned their attention to the phenom from Cleveland.
Melanie helped Tori with the extended triangle pose, thinking how similar their stories were. She’d been thrust into the limelight at sixteen after being “discovered” on a Florida beach. The agency rep had told her everything she’d wanted to hear: she was beautiful; she could be famous; she could make a lot of money; she could live a life of glamour and travel to exotic places. And sure enough, she’d found fame. But like Tori, she’d discovered it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. A teenager without a good support system could so easily be led astray.
“This apartment is sick.” Tori looked from the bright black-and-white kitchen to the living room with two-story windows looking out over Main Street and the lake. The furniture belonged to Nora, who’d left the apartment to live with Asher in the mountain home he’d built.
Mel shrugged. “It’s very bricky.”
“Hey—I love that brick!” Nora laughed, falling over in the middle of a boat pose. The century-old building’s original brick walls were exposed on both sides of the apartment. It was cozy, but it was nothing like Mel’s sleek glass-and-chrome condo in Miami.
Tori sat on the carpet next to Nora, and Mel joined them.
“It’s like a city loft in the middle of this cute little village,” Tori said, looking up at the exposed beams.
“You like Gallant Lake?”
Tori nodded at Mel’s question. “It’s okay. There’s no press hounding me here.”
“How’d you hurt your ribs?”
Tori went quiet, staring out the windows for a beat before speaking.